My Bird Neighbors 



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so swollen he could not swallow. Before we could devise means to help him, 

 he disappeared. 



Jack, my Sandhill Crane, and I go to the grove almost every morning to 

 hunt insects. He digs into the ground the length of his bill and brings out 

 fat grubs, which apparently he hears beneath the surface. On one occasion he 

 dug out a mole and killed it. We have a large variety of spiders that live in 

 holes in the ground; when Jack sees one of hese holes he chuckles and makes a 

 dive for it. Our negroes are all very fond of Jack, and he has his favorite 

 among them. When this man is hoeing, Jack follows him to get the insects he 

 turns out, talking and chuckling all the time. He has a great variety of calls, 

 and when hungry grunts or utters a fretting note; when he is pleased, he 

 chuckles; and he spreads his wings and hisses like a goose when a Buzzard, 

 Osprey, or Eagle flies by. We talk to him as we would to a dog, and he seems to 

 understand us. About once a week he goes flying and, after circling around the 

 place, lands in the grove and waits for us ; or sometimes walks back when, if the 

 sand is hot, he stands in his bath-tub to cool his feet. Every evening before he 

 goes to bed he dances, and the more we applaud the more active he becomes. 



One of our friends had a pair of Egrets. He found the two young in the nest; 

 the mother bird, with six other bodies, lay in a heap with wings and plumes 

 taken. He raised the birds and had them a long time. One sickened and died, 

 the other must have lived four years longer, when he was killed by a Horned 

 Owl. 



